


Nicotine

by LivingSilver



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: F/M, Smut, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 11:33:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15662412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivingSilver/pseuds/LivingSilver
Summary: "Just can't stay away can you," she taunts darkly against the shell of his ear."You know I can't," he murmurs against her pulse point, fingers tangling in her hair to tilt her head back and he presses a kiss there, savoring the way her heart flutters against his lips, breath catching in her throat.





	Nicotine

**Author's Note:**

> So I've very recently become Brendon Urie trash. This is inspired by an interview I watched where he talked a little more about the meaning of Nicotine; tbh I don't know how any girl could be like that to him, but I at least thought it was an interesting idea to write about. 
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I did proofread, sorry if I missed anything.

Brendon takes an anxious drag off his cigarette when the door opens; she's wearing a worn v neck like a second skin, lace trimmed panties, and the hint of a cat's smile curling around the corners of her mouth. Brendon looks tired but good-- hair perfectly disheveled, long legs cased in black denim, white shirt, and a black motorcycle jacket to keep out the cool night chill.  He exhales a silent, slow cloud of smoke.

 

A moment of anticipation hangs heavy between them; both knowing he shouldn't be here. The better part of Brendon's conscious nags him to leave. Dropping his cigarette, he moves in, cupping her face in his hands, leaning down to claim her upturned mouth with his own, lips moving hungrily over hers as he pushes her inside.

 

The door clicks shut behind them.

 

"Just can't stay away can you," she taunts darkly against the shell of his ear.

 

He sighs into the crook of her neck, breathing in the scent of vanilla and something indefinably floral.

 

"You know I can't," he murmurs against her pulse point, fingers tangling in her hair to tilt her head back and he presses a kiss there, savoring the way her heart flutters against his lips, breath catching in her throat.

 

Her hands slip beneath his jacket, roaming his shoulders appreciatively before shoving it down his arms. Brendon backs her into the nearest wall, unable to wait to get her the short walk down the hall to the bedroom, thigh wedging easily between hers. She bites off a moan at the pressure.

 

"Just admit you want this as much as I do," Brendon rasps against her ear, hands skimming the expanse of her body stretched against him.

 

"You wish," she replies, catching the his ear lobe between her teeth, hands raking through his hair.

 

He lets out a groan equal parts annoyance and frustration, capturing her lips almost desperately, tongue slipping against the seam of her mouth to which she yields, accepting everything he has to offer. Brendon presses his thigh harder against her core all the while licking into the caverns of her mouth; dick already pressing against his zipper.

 

His hands move to cup her ass, lifting her easily and her legs wrap instinctively around his waist. She buries her face in the crook of his neck as he struggles to carry her to the bedroom without fucking her against the wall. Her lips travel the column of his throat and he can't help all the small sighs and curses that come spilling out, especially when her tongue dips into the hollow of his throat.

 

He drops her unceremoniously onto the edge of the bed, quickly pulling off his shirt and dropping to his knees in what must be record time. Brendon thinks about how he would tease her if he wasn't so on edge--the butterfly kisses he would trail against the inside of each thigh until she's squirming, before finally pressing his tongue against her soaked panties--but there's no time for that now, he needs too much.

 

Long fingers deftly pull her panties down her legs, before he wraps his arms around her thighs and buries his face in her pussy--so sweet and wet, he moans against her clit as her thighs tighten on either side of his head, fingers immediately finding purchase in his hair. He tastes her with long, easy strokes of his tongue; he contemplates slipping his fingers in to stroke her but decides he wants the satisfaction of having her come just like this on his tongue; the satisfaction of knowing he's the only one who can. He steadily works in the occasional swipe of his tongue against her clit, but never lingers, feeling her grow impatient as she tries to guide his head where she wants him.

 

When Brendon is sure she's properly worked up, her pussy grinding against his face, cursing endlessly under her breath, he finally relents, tracing tight circles against her clit with his tongue. She makes a broken kind of sound as he sucks her clit between his swollen lips, not letting go until she comes shuddering against his face, moaning long and low, he eagerly licks at everything she has to give, tongue dipping into her entrance to taste where she's sweetest.

 

Brendon doesn't pull away until he feels her go completely limp. He gazes up at her, filing away the memory of her looking so completely fucked out--chest heaving, bottom lip bitten just barely swollen, pupils blown wide enough to swallow him whole. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, unhooking her thighs from his shoulders, and moves to stand over her.

 

She has the nerve to look up at him almost coyly; Brendon catches her chin in one hand, leaning down to kiss her sloppily, before pushing her into the bed. He lets her lie there while he pops the button of his jeans, and undoes his zipper, sighing at the small amount of relief it offers his swollen cock straining against the cotton of his boxers.

 

He pulls the condom out of his back pocket before pushing his jeans and boxers down his thighs, enjoying the way her gaze drinks in the lithe lines of his finely muscled body; shocked when she actually reaches a hand out to stroke down his torso, following the perfect v of his hips, fingers lingering there, before she pulls them away abruptly--her gaze dropping to his neglected cock with a smirk.

 

Brendon tears the condom foil open with his teeth, and rolls it on. She hooks a leg around hips, and he places a hand against her chest, using the other to guide himself to her entrance-- the bed being the perfect height for him to fuck her without having to lean over--and wastes no time entering her in one swift thrust, his head falling back--"God, fuck, so good, jesus"-- at the way she stretches and spasms around him with her own high moan.  Her back curves off the bed, chest pressing up against his splayed fingers.

 

Biting his lip, he looks down at her, torn between wanting to fuck her nice and slow until she's dripping wet down her thighs, and just fucking her into the mattress. He decides to start slow, needing this fix to last as long as possible.

 

He pulls out almost entirely before rolling his hips against her, watching her eyes flutter closed. He slides the hand on her chest down to the hem of her shirt, pushing it up to reveal her breasts.  He thumbs a nipple in time with his slow rhythm, and she gasps almost startled.

 

Brendon lets his hips snap forward, unable to maintain his illusion of control, hands moving to grip her hips as he increases his pace; she rolls her body in time with his, and he leans down for an open mouthed kiss. Her ankles lock behind his back, drawing him even deeper. Knowing he's not going to last much longer, he snakes  a hand between them, thumb grazing her clit. Her nails dig into the expanse of his shoulders, and he increases the pressure, feeling her begin to flutter around him.

 

He snags her bottom lip between his teeth as he hits that spot inside her, she comes keening into his mouth, clenching tight around him, his rhythm falters as his own release washes over him.  Their mouths still locked, each swallowing the sounds of the other as they come down.

 

Brendon finally pulls out, and manages enough energy to dispose of the condom and pull up his pants, before collapsing next to her. She's put her panties back on and readjusted her shirt.

 

"You should go," she says coolly staring up at the ceiling.

 

He casts her a sidelong glance, trying in vain to read her, hoping this time would be different.

 

He twines his fingers with hers, leaning over to gently capture her mouth; she kisses him back so sweetly his heart could burst, but then she's pulling away, lips brushing his ear--"I said you should go."

 

Brendon tries to maintain some dignity, but he can't help himself from pressing a lingering kiss to her jaw before pulling away, doing his best to mask his features with an air of indifference, but he's never been good at pretending.

 

She watches him pull his shirt on.

 

"Don't forget your jacket on the way out."

 

Brendon meets her gaze, a million things he could say and none of them nice running through his head, but instead he turns to leave with a shake of his head.

 

He picks his jacket up off the floor on the way out, allowing himself a backwards glance as he shrugs it on.

 

Once outside, he lights a cigarette and takes a  heavy drag before walking away.


End file.
